


Little Lion Man

by Lady_in_Red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Animal Transformation, Cats, F/M, Gen, Pets, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Brienne rescues a very special cat.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 270
Kudos: 731





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any errors in cat behavior. I am terribly allergic and have never owned one.

“Sorry again!” Brienne called down the hall. 

Hyle’s retreating back did not slow, nor did he look back. 

She sighed as she closed the door and turned to glare at her cat. “Are you happy now? You’re turning me into a crazy cat lady, with only you for company.”

Leo swished his fluffy tail, gave a little chirp and sauntered away. 

She probably was going crazy, the way she talked to him. “You have to stop doing this,” she added, though the cat did not turn back to look at her. He made his way to her bedroom door, nudged it open with his head, and went inside. She would find him curled up on the pillow next to hers, of that she had no doubt. He’d laid claim to that spot months ago and refused to relinquish it.  


Brienne cleaned up the empty wine glasses on the coffee table and folded the throw blanket on the couch. The scene of the crime. She wasn’t sure if Hyle, her date, had accidentally touched one of Leo’s scars or pushed his injured leg or sat a bit on his tail, but Leo had slashed at Hyle and gouged five deep furrows across the back of his hand. And then Leo, fur bristling, had hissed and spat at Hyle until he got off the couch and started backing toward the door. He’d never done anything like that before, or she would have locked him in the bedroom before Hyle arrived.

“I’m sorry, he has a bad history with men,” she’d tried to explain, but Hyle wasn’t interested. He didn’t want her to clean his wounds or apologize further. She doubted he would call again. 

Truth be told, Brienne wasn’t terribly upset. All Hyle wanted to talk about was hockey, his job, and his last vacation. She wasn’t sure he’d asked a single question about her all evening. He’d sure been quick to put a hand on her knee and slide it right up her thigh, though. 

Leo was waiting for her in the bedroom, sitting at attention at the end of the bed. Even with his scars, he was still an uncommonly beautiful cat, a gold and orange striped longhair with a fluffy white chest and bright green eyes. 

While she undressed and got ready for bed, Leo curled up on his pillow. Brienne crawled into bed and made herself comfortable, turning on her side to look at him. “Were you jealous?” she asked with a yawn. “Or did he hurt you?” She was definitely becoming a crazy cat lady if she expected him to answer.

Leo didn’t, of course, but he padded over to drape himself across her chest.

She’d never really considered getting a pet until Leo, but now she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. If she’d walked through the park that night just a minute later, she wouldn’t have him at all. That’s all it would have taken, those horrible boys she saved him from were so close to kicking him to death. She’d heard their cruel laughter and Leo’s yowls, and she’d run toward them without even thinking. Brienne put the fear of the Father in them and watched them scatter like leaves on the wind, revealing their poor victim bloody on the ground.

She’d thought him dead at first, but the poor thin little cat, his fur matted and filthy, had made one pitiful little mew and Brienne couldn’t leave him there. The emergency vet she brought him to had strongly suggested euthanizing him, but Brienne had looked into his eyes and handed over her credit card instead. He’d been someone’s cat at one point, he’d worn a tattered crimson collar, but no tags or microchip to identify him. So Brienne took him home when he’d recovered enough to leave the vet hospital, still hoping to reunite him with his family.

Not that Leo had appreciated her efforts at first. He came home wearing a cone of shame, one leg casted and unable to climb or run. He could manage a sad little hop around her apartment, and he made awful little meows that somehow sounded both sad and resentful when he needed help. 

Leo was a spur of the moment choice. He’d needed a name for the vet’s records, though he didn’t look much like a little lion that night. It was only later, once she’d surrendered to the fact that her little king would not eat dry cat food, that he started to fill out, his coat growing long and glossy. Around that time she’d stopped looking for his owner, who’d not answered any of her ads on various pet finding sites nor registered him lost with county animal control. 

At first, he wanted nothing to do with her, gobbling down his food and limping away to hide under her bed or claw the side of her ancient couch. He even pooped in her shoes a few times, when she returned to work and started leaving him alone during the day. But slowly, as he healed and settled into a routine, he started coming out of hiding more often, watching her from the far end of the couch and accepting bits of meat from her hand. 

A full month after Brienne had brought him home, Leo sat beside her and butted his head against her hand to demand petting. After that, it all seemed to fall into place easily. Even when he was being profoundly weird cramming himself into discarded mailing boxes or sliding off the counter he’d leaped onto without realizing how narrow it was, he was still largely affectionate. He’d even brought her a few mice that managed to get into the apartment, and once a sparrow he caught on the balcony. Brienne didn’t really want his bloody hunting trophies but she supposed it was better than finding gory bits all over the apartment. 

They were a good team now. Except when she brought men home. It hadn’t happened often over the almost year she’d had him, but he’d glared menacingly at a man who’d had the audacity to come over to watch a ballgame, and then he’d scratched Hyle. Leo wasn’t fond of her building super either, a stocky ginger man who often seemed to invent repairs that must be done in the evenings when she was at home instead of during the day while she was gone. 

On the occasions when Brienne could get him to come during the day, she just took Leo with her to work. She smuggled him on the train in a small duffel carrier, and he spent the day curled up in her in-box or shoved next to her in her seat or in her purse. Her colleagues cooed over how handsome he was, and he would sit up and preen under their attention, but he moved away if they tried to pet him. 

Leo soaked up every bit of affection Brienne offered, unless he was sulking over some imagined infraction on her part, but he wasn’t keen on anyone else touching him. They had that in common. Brienne was slow to warm up to people too, and slow to trust. But at least they had each other. 

On her way home from work on one of those days, not long after the Hyle incident, Brienne cut through the park again. The leaves were changing, the air was crisp, and she was in the mood for a detour through the foliage on her way to the train station. 

It was a mistake. As she made her way along the park’s leaf-strewn paths, the sun went down. A few of the pathway lights failed to turn on, leaving her way shadowed. She didn’t see the man stepping out of the trees until it was too late to avoid him. 

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked, his voice muffled. And then two more men came out onto the path. The shifting shadows had hidden his face at first, but once the others came out she understood. He was wearing a heavy rubber mask. They all were. A creepy clown, a vampire with sharp teeth, and a bull’s head. Not a good sign. 

Brienne instinctively took a step back. She could take care of herself, but she was less sure of herself against three men. These weren’t boys like the ones she’d scared away before. She might not be able to reach the pepper spray in her purse with the cat carrier in her way. 

“Drop the bag, I’ll be taking that. And your purse. And any jewelry,” the vampire said.

Even worse, the clown reached toward her, a gleaming knife in his hand. “Unless you’d like a smile like mine. Might be an improvement,” he said with a nasty laugh. 

Brienne jumped back, and behind her she heard more rustling. She dropped the cat carrier, offering Leo a silent apology as he emitted a startled yowl on his short fall to the ground. She dug through her purse, hoping to find either her phone or her pepper spray, and landed on the pepper spray.

“That was a mistake,” creepy clown snarled, and lunged toward her. Brienne dodged, aiming the spray at his face and at his friends as best she could. 

The men staggered back, startled, and then Bull-head started cursing and shrieking. “You bitch, my eyes!” He turned away and yanked off the mask, but Brienne barely noticed him. The clown was still coming toward her, knife in hand and angrier than ever, eyes streaming with tears. 

Brienne dodged his knife as he swung it at her, clumsy and half-blind, obviously. She shouldn’t have dropped the carrier. Now she couldn’t run away without leaving Leo behind, and she wasn’t about to do that. 

The vampire tried to flank her, and Brienne kicked out at him. He grabbed her foot and yanked, and she went down hard on her back, her head thumping against the dirt path. Clown-face pounced, dropping down to straddle her, his hand tight around her throat and his knife caressing her cheek. 

The vampire laughed unpleasantly and picked up her purse from where it had fallen. He rummaged through, pulling out her wallet. 

“Just take it and go,” she said, trying not to move much, the steel tickling her skin in a way that made her want to shiver with revulsion, but she grit her teeth against it. 

The man on top of her was getting hard, and she wanted to vomit. 

Bull-head had come back, mask in place again. All she’d done was make them angrier, and she’d never even screamed, never called for help. 

“No, I want to know what’s in the bag,” the vampire countered, crouching by the duffel.

“Just my workout clothes,” she insisted. If they hurt Leo too, she’d never forgive herself. He’d already been through too much.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Vampire chuckled, pushing his mask up. She couldn’t see much of his face, but it wasn’t great that he was taking the risk. He started to unzip the bag. 

A blur of yowling, hissing orange fur burst out, claws extended, body twisting, and landed on Vampire’s upper torso. Leo slashed at the man’s throat and face, whipping around to bite and scratch everywhere he could.

Vampire screamed and fell back, and Clown-face twisted to look at them, momentarily distracted. 

In that moment, something swung over her head, fast, and Clown-face went down, freeing Brienne. 

Bull-head ran over and pulled Leo off the bloody vampire, and Leo twisted to attack the man holding him. More screaming and yowling, and a dark figure blocked Brienne’s view, standing over her. 

She rolled over and got up, hands up to defend herself against the new attacker. 

He was young, black hair and blue eyes, holding a chunk of tree branch. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Brienne’s heart soared. Not another attacker. “Yeah, call the police,” she directed, and turned back to help Leo just in time to see Bull-head throw him into the trees. 

“No!” She ran at Bull-head and punched him in the face, kicking him in the balls for good measure. As he went down, she went charging into the trees to find Leo. 

Behind her, she heard her rescuer talking with the emergency dispatcher. She heard him ask for her name, but she ignored him. Where was Leo? He should be right here. 

And then she saw him, under a tree, lying limp on his side, his eyes closed. Blood matted the fur of his flank. Brienne scrambled to him and touched him gently. Should she move him? Would that hurt him more? 

No. The longer she touched him, the more certain she was. Tears blurred Brienne’s vision. Her sweet little cat wasn’t breathing. She bent low and kissed his little head, tears falling onto his soft fur. “I’m so sorry, Leo,” she whispered. “You were such a brave cat, the best most beautiful, smartest cat.” That didn’t seem like enough. She kissed his head again, and whispered, “I love you, sweet boy.”

In the distance, sirens approached. 

Leo’s body jerked, and Brienne cried out. He started twitching, and while Brienne watched, his legs moved, going rigid and then starting to contort and stretch. She backed away, scrambling across the ground. She must have a concussion, she must be unconscious and dreaming because what was happening wasn’t possible. 

Leo was transforming. Brienne was fascinated and horrified in equal measure.

The sirens cut off in the distance and Brienne suddenly remembered that the police were coming. And her rescuer was still standing on the path.

And where her cat had been moments ago, a naked man lay in the dirt, a long, ragged scrape down his side oozing blood. Under his shaggy honey-blonde hair, a bruise marred his forehead. His fingernails had blood under them too as if he’d scratched someone. 

Not believing her eyes, Brienne reached out to touch his throat. A weak pulse beat there, and she could see his broad chest rising and falling with his breathing. But his eyes did not open. 

Voices shouted from the path, and flashlights lit the gloom in the distance. Brienne hastily pulled off her jacket and draped it over the man. 

Leo. The man was Leo. Or she was going insane. She was definitely insane. At least concussed. Because cats did not turn into men. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am, you can come out now!” an unfamiliar voice called. 

She couldn’t just leave him here. He was hurt. He needed help. He was a cat three minutes ago. 

No, Brienne shook her head, which was starting to pound, and wiped her eyes. He wasn’t a cat. Of course he wasn’t. There was a rational explanation for this. Even if the scars on his arm looked suspiciously like Leo’s scars.

“I’m over here,” she called back. “There’s an injured man here.” 

The next five minutes were a blur, police coming to her aid, paramedics carrying a stretcher into the trees and carefully loading the man onto it, taking his vitals and asking Brienne a host of questions she couldn’t answer. No, she didn’t know his name.  _ Leo. _ She didn’t know how he got there.  _ He was my cat. He was protecting me.  _ And then they took him away. 

They fussed over Brienne, tried to get her to go to the hospital, and when she refused they asked her a hundred questions about the men who’d attacked her and how it had happened. Two of them had escaped, the last was going to the hospital in handcuffs. 

And then, eventually, they left her there to look for her missing cat. The detective had noticed the empty cat carrier and asked if she wanted help from animal control officers, but Brienne refused. 

When the park was quiet again, she made her way back to the tree where she’d found Leo. His broken collar was all that remained of her sweet cat. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took much longer than I'd hoped. Quarantine has not been conducive to creativity or time to myself to write.

The first thing Brienne saw the next morning was his face. The man. On her TV. She’d left it on, unable to sleep, while she lay on the couch and missed Leo’s warm little body cuddled with her. 

The morning news was on, and the pretty blonde anchor was breathlessly talking about a manhunt and a reward for information. The text at the bottom of the screen, below a photo of a beautiful man with bright green eyes, held her attention. MISSING LANNISTER HEIR FOUND BEATEN IN PARK. 

Lannister heir? She remembered there’d been a massive search mounted for the man, and that she’d thought it typical the police would go to such lengths to search for a man who’d obviously taken his massive wealth and run away across the Narrow Sea, likely to drink himself to death or fritter away his money in the pillow houses of Lys. 

His father had offered a reward back then too. The police had questioned a number of shady characters. They’d even dragged the lake in the park near Jaime Lannister’s home. And all that time, he’d been a few miles away yowling all night in her apartment, constantly attempting to take his cone off so he could worry at his stitches. 

No. 

She was letting her imagination run away with her. She must’ve hit her head in the fight, and her eyes had played tricks on her. Leo had gotten scared when he was thrown and he was hiding somewhere in the park. He wasn’t dead, and he certainly had not transformed into a man before her very eyes. The nude man she found had been mugged before she got there, or perhaps she’d caught her muggers in the act of dumping the man they’d kidnapped and held hostage. For a year. Without asking for a ransom from his obscenely wealthy father. 

Brienne shook her head, and rose on wobbly legs. She needed coffee. Everything would seem clearer with some caffeine in her veins. The act of making coffee was soothing, the routine and the normalcy of it, adding creamer, stirring it, taking that first sip and setting it aside to open the cupboard to get a can of food for—

Brienne’s chest tightened painfully. She couldn’t bear to look at Leo’s empty dishes, couldn’t even think of him not being in her life anymore. She wasn’t expected at work today, so she had nothing to do but scour the park. She wouldn’t call the hospital, they wouldn’t tell her anything about Jaime Lannister, and she had no right to know anything about him. 

Brienne drank her coffee sitting on the couch, the television still flashing photos of a younger Jaime Lannister, his clean-shaven face and precisely-styled hair unfamiliar, so unlike the bearded man she’d seen last night. Everything about him was sharp, styled, deliberate. 

His eyes, though, she knew. They were the same green as Leo’s eyes, and they stared out from her television with the same cool aloofness she’d seen in her cat so often. 

But that was impossible. People didn’t turn into cats. If she believed that, she might as well believe that the Seven themselves visited this world in human form. That the Warrior sometimes manifested as a beautiful man sounded more plausible. The stunning woman at his side in some photos might well be the Maiden, though on second glance there was something knowing in her gaze, something not so innocent. 

Brienne finally gave up on her coffee, it was only making the churning in her gut worse. She cleaned up, put on fresh clothes, and got ready to leave. She wasn’t expected at work, she could spend the morning combing the park. She’d find Leo, and she’d put this whole strange night behind her.

Except when she opened the door, Jaime Lannister stood in the hall.

He looked exhausted and anxious and he rocked back a step, startled. His eyes widened briefly, taking her in. The bruising on his forehead was much darker now, and more prominent with his shaggy curls tied back. His whole face seemed more angular, his eyes shadowed. He held himself stiffly, bandages visible under his crisp white dress shirt. 

“Brienne Tarth?” he asked, his voice deep and a bit scratchy. 

Brienne nodded dumbly, clutching the door frame to keep herself upright. She wasn’t ready for this, hadn’t given any thought to what she might say to him if she ever saw him again. He shouldn’t even know who she was. “Should you be out of the hospital?”

He shrugged and winced. “I’m fine. Got tired of being watched like a zoo animal.”

Down the hall, a door opened and a voice floated down the hall, approaching. The elevator was past her door. From the voice and the accompanying jingle, Myranda from three doors down was walking her little terrier, a beast Brienne had thought sweet until she brought Leo home and the terrier tried to attack him repeatedly. 

Jaime glanced down the hall and looked back at Brienne. “Can I come in for a minute?” 

Brienne hesitated. Normally she didn’t let strange men into her apartment, but nothing about this situation was normal. “Um, sure. How did you find me?” 

Jaime stepped inside the doorway, looking around as he moved a few steps further into the apartment. Brienne closed the door firmly behind him as the terrier tried to poke its nose into her apartment. 

“The police gave me your name. They said you found me.” Jaime’s eyes roamed over her apartment, the open kitchen and small living room. At least the door to her bedroom was closed. He wandered restlessly around the room, his brow furrowed. “Have we met before?” He turned his head sharply to look at her, and Brienne was so strongly reminded of Leo that it hurt. 

“You don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Everything is fuzzy. The doctors said it would probably come back.” 

“That must be hard.” He looked desperately in need of support and reassurance. But she couldn’t offer him anything more than words without looking weird. They’d just met. She had to keep reminding herself of that, no matter how familiar he seemed. 

“Everything feels wrong,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. 

Brienne rested one hand on her kitchen island to keep from moving closer to him. It was best for both of them if she kept her distance. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingertips scratching through his beard. His rolled-up sleeve exposed a long, twisting scar on his right forearm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your time. I just wanted to give you this, and say thank you.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and brought it to her. Every movement was elegant, graceful. Beside him she felt like an elephant. 

“What is it?” Up close, his eyes were impossible to ignore. So very green, and so like Leo’s. That had to be a coincidence, her imagination in overdrive. 

“The reward.” When she didn’t raise her hand to take it, he dropped it on the counter. 

Brienne shook her head. “I don’t want it. I didn’t do anything.” 

He shrugged. “It’s not my money. It’s my father’s.” 

“I don’t—” she started, and had no idea what to say. She didn’t want a reward for simply stumbling across him in a park. It was only tempting because she was still paying off Leo’s vet bills. But she didn’t want to bring up Leo. 

“Keep it. Give it away. I don’t want it,” he insisted, tapping the envelope and backing away. “Thank you.”

She made a noncommittal noise.  _ You’re welcome _ seemed wrong, but what was she supposed to say?  _ I think you might have spent the last year as my cat.  _ He would call her crazy. He would be right. This wasn’t the Age of Heroes, or even the Age of Dragons. Magic had long ago faded from the world, despite what the psychics that advertised on late-night television wanted her to believe. 

Brienne didn’t try to stop him, didn’t even wish him well as Jaime Lannister turned and left her apartment, closing the door behind him without saying good-bye. 

She exhaled shakily. The envelope lay on the counter, crisp and accusing. She picked it up between two fingers and dropped it into her junk drawer. That was for later. Right now she needed more coffee, possibly with a generous pour of alcohol added. Anything to stop the urge to follow him out the door, to bring him back and tell him the entire impossible story. As if he would even want that. She would only make him as confused as she was. 

And she needed to stop, to back off and let this play out without her interference. Brienne had always been drawn to the sick and the injured, hand-rearing abandoned kittens, stopping traffic to help turtles cross the road, and returning fallen baby birds to their nests. Back in school she’d defended the smaller and weaker children when they were bullied, and had her nose broken twice for her trouble. Jaime Lannister was not a runt kitten abandoned by its mother.

The door burst open, startling her. Jaime Lannister stormed back into her apartment, the door closing behind him again before she could object to his presence. “Your bedroom is painted blue,” he blurted out.

“What?” Brienne stammered. 

And he barreled through her living room, opening her bedroom door without hesitating. He glanced inside and looked back at her, triumph in his eyes. “How did I know that, if I’ve never been here?” His cheeks were flushed, his eyes narrowed as they swept the room. “This couch is scratched on the far end,” he said, pointing as he stalked around the room. He looked up at her and demanded, “Why do I know that?”

“It’s complicated.” That was the understatement of the year, but Brienne was still reeling from the possibility that she wasn’t crazy, the world was. 

“Complicated?” Disbelief dripped from his voice. “It’s not fucking complicated. I was  _ here.  _ And you told the police you didn’t know me. Did you dump me in that park?”

“No! Of course not.” She’d helped him as much as she could. If she’d told them the whole truth, they would have taken her straight to the psych ward in a straitjacket.

“How can I trust anything you say? For all I know, you broke my arm.” His gaze burned through her as he waited for her to respond. “You know you could.”

“I didn’t.” She couldn’t prove it. She couldn’t prove anything, and that was the problem. At this point Brienne might welcome evidence that she was imagining everything that happened last night. 

“Then why was I here? How did I end up in that park? What the fuck is going on here?” He took a step toward her with every question, forcing Brienne back against the kitchen island. He looked more and more like a cornered animal, and they tended to lash out. She could defend herself but she didn’t want to hurt him. 

She raised her hands to ward him off. “Leo, calm down.” 

“I will not calm d— what did you call me?” All the menace in his voice disappeared from one word to the next. 

“Leo,” Brienne repeated softly, ducking away from him into the living room, trying to put more space between them. 

He moved like a puppet with broken strings, jerky and hesitant, and collapsed onto the couch. “You know that isn’t my name.” 

“I know that now.” But he raised an eyebrow to challenge her so she rushed on. “I had no idea you were Jaime Lannister, I swear.” Why would she? Jaime Lannister was a man, not a cat wearing a ragged collar. The more she thought about it, the more she questioned how he’d ended up skinny and dirty in the park, with no one caring for him. Surely someone knew what had happened to him. Even in the old tales a transformation took tremendous power. 

“You called me Leo.” He made it sound like an accusation.

It could have been worse. At least she hadn’t named him Mr. Whiskers or Fluffy. “That’s the name I knew you as.”

“So I was here, pretending to be someone else, with a stranger who must never watch the news or you would have known who I was. That’s insane.” Jaime rose stiffly to his feet and stalked toward the door, then stopped abruptly and turned around.   


“I know where your spare key is.” He grinned, but it was strained. He raked a hand through his hair, loosening the tie. His hair fell around his face, making him look even more like a lion. “I slept in your bed.”

She nodded reluctantly, watching him pace the room. There was something familiar and feline about it, or perhaps she only wanted to see him that way. 

“Did we…” He gestured between the two of them and it took embarrassingly long for Brienne to understand. 

“No.” She shook her head vehemently, burning with mortification. If he ever remembered more…. Leo had seen her in bed with a man once. He’d seen her in the shower too, seen her crying over stupid movies, seen her  _ on the toilet. _

“But I  _ was  _ here.  _ This  _ I remember, out of everything. And…” he hesitated. “You. You look so familiar. Your eyes...” 

The burn took on a new intensity. The way he stared was hard to bear, but hard to look away. “I’m no one special,” she mumbled, dragging her eyes away from his.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Right now you’re the most important person in the world to me.” He was so serious, she wanted to laugh. 

“I don’t have the answers you want,” she told him, feeling dirty even as the words left her mouth. 

“Where did we meet?” he pressed. 

“The park.” That was true enough.

“And I called myself Leo.” He’d accepted that much, she could hear it in his voice. A recognition of the name, its familiar sound.

Brienne hesitated. He hadn’t asked a question really, and yet she felt compelled to say something. “You didn’t tell me your name. I called you Leo.”

His brow furrowed. “We met in a park, I didn’t tell you my name, and I ended up in your bed,” he said slowly. “Are you sure this wasn’t a sex thing?” 

Brienne scowled at that. “It wasn’t.” 

“Well, I was naked in the park. What do you expect me to think?” There was an energy to him now, a sense of humor even as he went on the offensive with his questioning. 

“It was not a sex thing,” she gritted out.

“No? Then I broke in like Goldilocks and ate your food and slept in your bed?” He tossed his hair a little, golden waves bouncing, even while his handsome face wore a scowl. 

Brienne laughed, because it was funny and it was true. Not the break-in, of course, but he’d stolen her food on multiple occasions and slept in her bed every night for close to a year. She kept laughing, the absurdity of it all crashing over her like a wave. This man, arrogant, beautiful, and understandably confused, had deliberately pushed all of her mother’s hand-blown glass birds off her dresser, shattering them on the floor. He’d clawed the side of her couch so badly she’d had to rearrange the furniture to hide it, because his vet bills had sapped her savings and she couldn’t afford a new one. His caterwauling had earned her a noise complaint and a warning from her landlord. 

“What’s so bloody funny?” 

She’d offended him, and there was a hysterical edge to her laughter now and still she couldn’t stop. She could so easily see this man spitefully flicking each delicate bird off the dresser, one by one, watching for her reaction between each small explosion of glass. She didn’t know him, and yet she could see his bright green eyes gleaming with satisfaction and a small smile quirking his lips. 

He sank into a chair and glowered at her. His expression was far too familiar, even without raised hackles and hissing. “Stop godsdamn laughing at me.” One hand covered the scar on his other arm, like if he touched it long enough he’d remember how he got it. 

The thought of that terrible night sobered her at last. As her giggles subsided, Brienne took a deep breath and found she could finally speak. “You’re the one who made the joke.”

“What joke? I remember sleeping in your bed.” His puzzlement seemed genuine, strangely enough.

“I only have one,” Brienne pointed out. The couch was far too short for anyone their size to sleep on. Of course he hadn’t been this size when they’d shared her bed. 

Brienne wasn’t exactly sure when she’d decided not to tell him what had really happened to him, but now she’d committed to it. What good would it do him to know? He’d been through enough already. Better his memories stay muddled. 

Jaime Lannister—she had to start thinking of him that way—growled under his breath and tugged none too gently on his unruly hair. Was it as soft as his fur had been? Impossible. And yet, every time she looked at him, she saw some bit of Leo reflected in his posture, his mannerisms, his expressions. It was strange and fascinating and embarrassing all at once. 

“Just tell me what you know. That’s all I’m asking.” He smiled encouragingly as he leaned toward her, his knee banging into the coffee table. 

Leo’s collar skittered across the table with a loud jingle. Jaime reached for it before she could stop him, and then he was examining the blue collar and gold tags. “Oh crap, I’m lost,” he read aloud from the tag, a hint of a smile crossing his lips. 

Brienne reached for the collar but before she could snatch it away, Jaime turned the tag over. She knew what he’d say before his mouth formed the words. 

“Leo.” His brow furrowed for a moment. His gaze roamed all over the apartment, snagging on the food and water dish by the kitchen island, and the partially disemboweled plush mice on the rug. His gaze raised to meet hers again. “Leo, your pet.”

“My cat.” 

Jaime nodded slowly as his gaze fell to the collar still clutched in his hand. If he thought it strange that she’d called him the same name as her cat, he didn’t say. “Your cat who sleeps on your bed and likes to nap in the sunny spot right there in the mornings.” He pointed to a patch of rug where the sun poured into her apartment for an hour or two each day.

“Yes.” She didn’t correct him, didn’t put those actions in the past tense. 

For a moment, she thought she had distracted him, and she might escape this whole surreal situation, but then he dropped the collar onto the coffee table and the tags jingled together in that familiar way, like Leo was running down the hall.

Jaime Lannister’s eyes widened and a strangled sound escaped his lips. He looked from the collar to Brienne and back again. 

He stared for far longer than was comfortable, flaying her with his gaze, every lie she’d told now obvious. But when he opened his mouth and a single sentence rushed out, it wasn’t at all what she’d expected. 

“I killed a mouse and dropped it on your foot.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a beast of a chapter. I really wanted to finish with this one, but it just got way too long, especially compared to earlier chapters, and the wait has gone on too long. Between my kids being done with school and my state experiencing a huge surge in covid cases, writing has been very slow.

He wouldn’t leave. Hours passed, and Jaime Lannister paced restlessly, picking up her things and putting them back down, stalking in and out of rooms as if it was his right. As if this was his home. 

He would stop periodically, eyes fixed on her, and blurt out whatever memory he’d clawed out of his head. “You like bubble baths, but you don’t fit in your tub.”

That was mortifying, but Brienne simply nodded, and he seemed relieved for a moment before his agitation returned.

He remembered more than she’d expected, but much of it revolved around her. “You eat ice cream straight out of the carton.” True. “You can’t sing.” Also true. “I clawed your hand when you took me to the vet.” She had the scars to prove it. 

He sat down for a while after that, his head in his hands, breathing fast and unsteady. 

Eventually Brienne made them both sandwiches and set his on the coffee table in front of him. Gently, she clasped his wrist and squeezed. “Jaime, you should eat something.” Soft, to get his attention without startling him.

He froze at her touch, then slowly raised his head until his eyes peeked above his fingers. Brilliantly green and assessing. “What is it?”

Brienne suddenly wondered if she’d made the right choice. “Tuna.”

He snorted and shook his head—it really was a terrible joke—but he uncovered his face. “Okay.” 

Jaime had eaten only a few bites before he made an odd, strangled sound and abruptly put down his food.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, and then remembered that of course something was wrong. He was a cat. Yesterday. That would freak anyone out. “With the sandwich, I mean?”

He shook his head, his gaze darting toward the hallway, and her bedroom. Jaime looked back at her with wide eyes and said in horror, “I shit in your shoes.”

Brienne sighed and set down her own sandwich, not at all hungry anymore. “You did. It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” 

“It’s not okay!” he insisted. “How are you so calm?” 

She barked a laugh. “Calm? Last night I thought I was having a psychotic break. But if you believe it too, then either we’re both crazy or you really were a cat.”

“Is it weird I’m not sure which to hope for?” The helplessness was starting to leave Jaime’s face, the tension easing from his shoulders. 

Brienne had actually had some time to consider this, while he was pacing her apartment like a zoo animal. “If you were a cat, you’re not anymore, so it’s over, right?” He nodded. “That’s better than still being crazy.”

Jaime leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy breath. “So let’s say I was a cat.” He paused. “I’m not saying I definitely was, but if I was, how in seven hells did that happen?”

Brienne shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You said we met in a park,” he pressed. “True? Or a lie?”

“True,” she said slowly, the memory painful even now. “A group of boys was kicking you around. It was awful.”

“You stopped them?” Jaime guessed, sitting up straighter, watching her closely. His stare was unnerving, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

Brienne tried to shake off her unease. “Yes. I took you to the vet, got you fixed up, tried to look for your—” she hesitated, “your owners.”

“Owners?” Jaime sounded disgusted by the idea, but he’d been a cat, after all. 

“You had a collar. Red leather. No tags. I put up signs, but no one called. So I kept you.” That sounded strange, looking at him. Jaime Lannister was not a man Brienne would get to keep. He was at most a man who would hold a door for her in a shop or share a smile while passing each other running in the park. 

Jaime scrubbed a hand over his face. “I might remember the park. It’s hard. I can’t tell if it’s last night or another time. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

Brienne let him think for a minute or so, but then she had to ask, “What was it like?” 

He looked away, but she saw the confusion in his eyes first. Jaime was quiet a while. When he finally spoke, the words came slowly. “Sometimes I was me, or just me enough to be horrified by my own instincts. And sometimes I just went away. It was a relief, to just let go and stop fighting it.” 

“That sounds scary.” She could kick herself for saying something so dumb. Of course it was frightening. He must have been terrified, losing himself bit by bit and unable to communicate. 

Jaime actually smiled at that, just a ghost of a smile. It didn’t last. “I think I would have disappeared completely before long. Maybe that would have been better. Life as a cat was certainly easier.”

Brienne had a sick feeling he didn’t mean that she pampered him when he was a cat, even though she had. The man wasn’t just rich, he was the kind of rich so insulated from regular people that he might as well live on another planet. “I’m sure your family is happy to have you back. Your father did offer that reward.”

Jaime shook his head, his lip curled at the mention of the reward. “He stopped by last night, told me all this attention was unseemly, and to return home as quickly and quietly as possible.”

“But you came here…” and then she understood. “To buy my silence.”

His smile was sharp. “That was the idea. Normally he has people to do his dirty work, but he felt I should clean up my own mess.”

Brienne colored. Of course he was only here to keep her quiet. People like the Lannisters expected everyone to take care of them, smooth their way through life. Genuine gratitude was beyond them. Except…. “But you didn’t ask me.”

“What?” He tilted his head as he looked at her, another very Leo-like mannerism. His shaggy hair and beard very much gave the impression of a big cat, a lion even.

“You didn’t ask me to stay quiet.” He’d only thanked her, over and over.

Jaime looked away and grumbled, “Well, I don’t always do what the old bastard wants.”

Brienne could not fathom talking about her father like that, but it was impossible to live in King’s Landing and not hear tales about Tywin Lannister. His name was on an ever growing number of buildings in the city, the lion rampant looming all over downtown. 

“I wouldn’t have talked even without the money. Even if I wanted to, who would believe me?” She tried to sound like it was all no big deal, but some bitterness leaked through. Money and power trumped truth every time. She wasn’t naive enough to believe otherwise. 

Jaime’s brow furrowed and he reached for her but he drew back again before he touched her. “My father would have me locked away under an assumed name if I told him.”

“Stop it,” Brienne chided. 

“What?” Jaime protested. “You think I’m exaggerating? My brother Tyrion is a dwarf. My aunt once told my father that Tyrion should inherit the business, not me, and he didn’t talk to her for a year. And that’s not even the worst thing he’s done to my brother.”

“Well I won’t tell him,” Brienne repeated.

They fell silent for a while, a train rumbling by less than a block away and music from upstairs thumping through the floor. 

“I just want to curl up right there and sleep,” Jaime said, pointing at a patch of warm sunlight on the rug. 

Brienne did reach out to him then, squeezing his forearm in what she hoped was a reassuring way and not creepily overfamiliar. “The floor wouldn’t be very comfortable, but we could push the couch over there if you like.” She didn’t bother mentioning Leo loved that particular patch of sunshine. 

Jaime brightened for a moment, then visibly deflated. “I shouldn’t. I should go.”

His exhaustion was more obvious the longer she looked at him. The bruising and puffiness around his brilliant green eyes wasn’t all from the assault. He looked like he had no business leaving the hospital, much less wandering around town alone.

“Stay. I don’t mind.”

Jaime was clearly torn, but eventually he agreed, and they shoved the couch into the sun. All six feet plus of Jaime curled up on the couch, his shoes and socks dumped on the rug. His bare feet looked strangely vulnerable. 

Brienne watched him as she went about her chores. Her impulse to take care of him made no logical sense. She’d known him less than a day, and much of that he’d been in the hospital. The year with Leo didn’t count, but she still felt a need to comfort him. 

Within a few minutes, Jaime’s eyes closed and his face relaxed, rendering him almost angelically beautiful. It was hard to look at him and see Leo right now, while he was snoring softly. It was hard to see the man from the news in him either. There was nothing polished or smug in his bearded face. He’d been hurt, badly and repeatedly. Even putting aside his literal transformation, traumatic experiences could change a man. 

Brienne tried to keep busy as the afternoon passed. He slept. Eventually she made dinner, but he looked so peaceful she couldn’t bear to wake him. She ate, washed dishes, read in the armchair for a while, and still he slept. 

Eventually Brienne showered and went to bed, but not before she tucked a blanket around Jaime. His side was clearly troubling him, and his bruised face made her angry and tender toward him all at once. Sleep was the best thing for him. 

* * *

She woke to a shaft of bright morning light cutting across the bed, the curtains not quite closed. She felt heavy, almost hung over with how deeply she’d slept. And then she tried to move and registered the arm draped over her chest. The body pressed against her side. Soft hair tickling under her chin. She turned her head, just enough to see that his eyes were still closed. Jaime still smelled a bit of the hospital, antiseptic mixed with clean laundry. 

It was all so familiar, and yet not at all. Leo had been so aloof at first, so defensive, that any affection he showed felt like a triumph. Over time, he’d deigned to sit near her, then on her. Eventually he allowed her to pet and cuddle him. But she had to remind herself that Leo and Jaime were not the same. Jaime didn’t even remember much of his time as Leo. It wasn’t as if she’d kissed a beloved animal and he turned into a prince. 

In the old tales, when an animal turned into a man, he didn’t have an old life waiting for him, complete with fame and fortune. Jaime didn’t belong to her. But she allowed herself to run a hand lightly over his hair as she whispered, “Jaime.” 

He stretched, winced as the wound in his side made itself known again, and settled against her more firmly as his eyes fluttered open. Jaime’s eyes blinked a few times before they focused on her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“It’s fine.” She petted his hair again in case he thought she was only being polite. He unsettled her, especially when she looked at him, but his presence was also oddly comforting. Brienne had grown accustomed to not being alone, even if the other being in the apartment liked to shred toilet paper and headbutt her when she dallied in bed past breakfast time. 

Jaime looked as if he meant to apologize again, but he didn’t make a move to get up, either. “Thank you,” he finally said. 

Brienne glanced at the bedside clock. “We should get up, though,” she said reluctantly. It was Saturday so she needn’t rush anywhere, but still, it was already after nine. Jaime had slept for 19 hours. 

“I know,” he sighed, but only shifted until his face was out of view.

“You don’t want your family to think you’ve vanished again.” How long would it take for Tywin Lannister to report him missing? Jaime might find himself on a very short leash if he kept disappearing like this. 

He shifted and flexed his hand, but still didn’t move. The steady rise and fall of his chest against her side matched her own breathing. He wasn’t even under the covers but his body heat still warmed her. If he started purring she wouldn’t even really be surprised. 

“How do you think it happened?” Jaime asked. 

“Does it matter?” She ran her hand slowly through his hair again, letting the silky strands slide between her fingers. He did nearly purr then, a sigh rumbling through his chest. 

Jaime looked up at her with worried eyes. “If I don’t know what happened, how can I stop it from happening again?” 

A loud thump from the living room startled them both. Jaime was out of the bed and on his feet in a flash. Another thump followed, and Brienne abruptly realized it was knocking. Heavy thuds that shook the doorframe. It sounded more like a battering ram than a fist. 

Jaime stood frozen, listening carefully, and padded from the room before Brienne had managed to get out of the bed. At least she was wearing sweats so she didn’t have to answer the door in pajamas. 

He was waiting in the kitchen, near the door but not opening it, just watching warily. 

The door frame shook again. 

Brienne hurried across the living room to the door. She’d get an earful from her landlord if someone damaged her door. She peeked through the peephole, but all she saw was a dark jacket. 

Reluctantly, she opened the door, leaving the chain in place, and peered through the gap. “Can I help you?” 

An immense man stood in the hallway. He wore a dark leather jacket and a white dress shirt and his face looked hewn from rock. His fists were huge. He didn’t bother speaking, just stepped aside, revealing a willowy blonde behind him. “Where’s my brother?” she asked, tapping her stiletto-clad foot in impatience. She wore a gorgeous red wrap dress and a significant amount of gold jewelry. 

Brienne glanced at Jaime, but she couldn’t read his reaction. The woman’s eyes were the same green as his, her hair the same shade of gold. Brienne closed the door for a moment and slid the chain free before opening it again. “Right here,” she said, stepping out of the way so his sister could see him. 

His shoulders were rounded, his hands fisted. With his rumpled clothes and hair, he looked like a child expecting a reprimand. Brienne wanted to offer him reassurance, but from the way his sister’s lip curled, he’d correctly anticipated her reaction. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here, Jaime, but it’s time to go,” his sister snapped. “Now,” she added when he didn’t move. 

Jaime moved toward her as if pulled by a string, halting abruptly a few feet away, out of reach of her massive bodyguard. “How did you know where I was?” 

His sister raised one perfectly-groomed brow. “Father told me.” 

Jaime backed up a few steps. “You didn’t come to the hospital, Cersei. Why are you here now?”

Cersei stepped over the threshold and into the apartment, looking around in obvious disgust. It wasn’t a bad apartment, just small, and maybe a little cluttered. “My brother finally returns from his little  _ adventure, _ and he disappears again. Forgive me for being concerned.” 

Brienne glanced between the two, trying to puzzle out this odd exchange. Did Cersei know something? Everyone else assumed he’d been kidnapped, held hostage, that trauma had blocked his memories and someday he would remember his ordeal. But his sister called his disappearance an  _ adventure.  _

“I think you’d better leave,” Brienne blurted out. Nothing about this situation felt right, but the way Jaime’s sister talked to him was definitely the worst. 

Jaime dropped his gaze to the floor as his sister smiled triumphantly. “See? You’re bothering her. Come—”

“Not Jaime. You.” Brienne was surprised her voice didn’t shake. Cersei Lannister was intimidating, even though she stood nearly a foot shorter than Brienne. Something in her stare promised a painful demise to anyone who thwarted her. 

“This is a family matter. None of your concern,” Cersei said coldly. “Gregor, go start the car. Jaime and I will be right down.”

Gregor grunted and left. 

“I’m not leaving,” Jaime insisted. It must sound insane to his sister, Jaime wanting to stay with someone he didn’t even know. 

“Stop being difficult. Where are your shoes?” Cersei didn’t seem to care why he’d stayed, or why he didn’t want to leave. Cut from the same cloth as their father. 

Jaime looked lost a moment, then his jaw firmed. “I  _ am _ home. I was here the whole time I was missing.”

Warmth bloomed in Brienne’s chest. He didn’t mean it, of course, but she wouldn’t dispute it. This had been his home for the last year. That wasn’t a lie.

Brienne waited for Cersei to laugh. She didn’t. She paled, then raised her chin and said haltingly, “Don’t be ridiculous. As if you’d hide away from us with this cow.”

“I slept in her bed, Cers,” Jaime pointed out, moving closer to Brienne.

Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever game you’ve cooked up here, I’m not playing. I didn’t believe that farce you cooked up with the fortune teller and I don’t believe this, either.”

“Fortune teller?” Jaime’s brow furrowed. 

Cersei waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, that ridiculous woman at the children’s school carnival, the one who called herself—”

“Maggie the Frog,” Jaime cut in, looking surprised even as the words left his mouth.

“Yes, the Crone knows that’s not her real name, Father and I wasted months trying to track her down,” Cersei complained.

“Why?” Jaime seemed genuinely surprised. 

“You disappeared from her disgusting-smelling tent,” Cersei reminded him. “She said all those horrible things to me—”

“She said you didn’t love me,” Jaime cut in again, light dawning in his eyes. Something was clearly coming back to him.

Cersei huffed in irritation. “She said a lot of things. Hurtful, untrue things. You went back to make her apologize. But you didn’t come out. For a long time I thought she’d done something with you, taken you for ransom maybe. Eventually I realized you must be in on it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cersei,” Jaime insisted, but his face was ashen. 

Brienne stood awkwardly near the door, unsure if she should step outside like the bodyguard, or remain where she was. It was her home, after all, but this seemed like a private conversation, and a difficult one. 

“Did you know she tried to hand me a cat and tell me it was you? Did you think I’d make a fool of myself doting on that pathetic mockery of our sigil?” Cersei laughed nastily. “I dumped it in the park on my way home.”

Brienne gasped, and Cersei glared at her before turning back to Jaime. “This is just insulting, thinking I’d believe for a second that you chose to live here, with her. Like you’d ever fuck this beast.” 

“Cersei,” Jaime warned, low and menacing. “Choose your next words very carefully.” 

She laughed again. “Oh, please.” Cersei turned toward Brienne. “This has nothing to do with you, you know. That disgusting old mummer Jaime hired, she told me that only real love would make Jaime himself again. What dreck.”

“Enough,” Jaime snapped, moving between them. He seemed to get taller, standing straighter, chin lifted and his eyes bright. “Time to go, Cersei.”

She smiled at that, triumphant, and touched his arm possessively. “There’s the Jaime I remember. I knew you were somewhere under all that hair.”

Jaime shrugged off her touch and moved closer to Brienne. “Get out.” His voice was quiet, controlled.

Brienne barely dared to breathe. She couldn’t look at Cersei at all, her gaze fixed on the rug. 

“What did you say?” Cersei was equally quiet, but her voice shook with barely leashed fury. 

“You heard me. Get. Out.” Brienne risked a glance at him. His teeth were bared and Brienne half expected him to lash out with claws any minute now. 

Cersei stared him down without any fear. She had her own claws. After more than a minute, she moved toward the door. “Fine. This is what you want? Go ahead, but don’t come crawling back to us when you tire of it.”

She’d dramatically turned her back and was just through the doorway when Jaime spoke. “You wouldn’t know real love if it was right in front of you.”

She smiled, a little sadly, as she looked at him over her shoulder. “I was never looking for love. That’s the difference between us, not your cock and my tits.”

Jaime closed the door behind her, and suddenly the apartment was very, very silent. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly. 

“I’m not.” Brienne crossed the room to sink gratefully onto the couch, still pushed under the window. Moving straight from sleep to a confrontation with a force of nature like Cersei Lannister had left her feeling more than a little dizzy.

“Why? She was awful.” He took a seat in a chair, his green eyes less shadowed than yesterday despite the morning’s drama. 

“Now we know how you ended up in the park.” 

Jaime’s face brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right.”

“You were quite thin when I found you. You’d probably been there for days already. I remember the news was already talking about your disappearance when I brought Leo home.” Already she was separating Jaime and Leo in her mind. While Jaime had been part of Leo, he was an entirely separate person. Not quite the same man he’d once been, there was no denying that. She actually liked his beard, though it could use a trim. He looked softer this way, more approachable. And she itched to run her hands through his hair again. Not like she’d petted Leo, either. He’d been a very handsome cat, but Jaime Lannister was a truly gorgeous man, clean-cut or scruffy. 

Jaime was quiet, nodding thoughtfully. He looked up and bit his lip before he said, “I shouldn’t have told her where I’d been.” He actually blushed a bit, high in the apples of his cheeks. “Or where I slept.” 

“It’s fine.” His sister’s utter disbelief was understandable, since she didn’t know the full story. Brienne quickly ran through what he’d said in her head. “You know, you never told her you actually  _ were  _ the cat. That she abandoned you.” 

“So she could tell my father and get me tossed in a mental hospital?” Jaime shook his head. “No, thanks. I’d rather she assume I was playing the same terrible, spiteful games she likes to play.” 

What could she say to that? Her father would always listen to her before assuming something like that. He wouldn’t have punished her for being hurt, either. “I’m sorry. That must be difficult.”

Jaime smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It was sharp, and more than a little mocking. “You think I’m different? I played all those games with her, from the time we were small. You have no idea how many staff we got fired from our house, from our schools, from our jobs. I’m not a good man, Brienne. You know a cat, not me. Warm and fuzzy…. That’s not me.” 

It was Brienne’s turn to laugh. “You think Leo was sweet and cuddly? He was an asshole. I still loved him. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to wring his fuzzy little neck from time to time.” 

Jaime’s brow furrowed. “You loved me? The cat, I mean.” 

“Of course, I did. Wouldn’t have put up with him otherwise. Leo really was a pill sometimes. Always yowling for food, never letting me sleep in, bringing me awful little dead presents. I honestly think he knew how much I hated them, but he had to prove what a big scary hunter he was.” Just thinking about it all made her smile now, even though it hurt, too. Leo wouldn’t be coming back.

Jaime scrubbed a hand through his beard. “What did I look like?” 

Of course he was curious. “Leo was a beautiful cat. Not at first, but once he was healthy again.” She tried to think of how to describe him, and then felt silly. She had pictures. “Here, let me…” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her pictures, passing by the blurry ones, the closeup of his sleeping face, the video of his paws twitching in his sleep, and found one of him perched in the windowsill in the afternoon sun, looking majestic and ginger and content. She handed Jaime the phone.

Jaime stared at it for a long time. “What happened? When I changed back?” When he got the bruise that stood dark purple and tender on his forehead. 

Brienne’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to remember this, much less talk about it. But for him, she could try. Haltingly, Brienne told him about bringing Leo to work, about walking home through the park, encountering those men, struggling with them. She had to stop when Jaime looked up at her, words caught in her throat until he set her phone down and moved to sit on the couch beside her. 

She told him about Leo getting out of his carrier, about the bystander who saved her life, and finally about Leo being thrown into the trees. Jaime took her hand when she got to that part, and murmured encouragement. Quietly, she told him about finding Leo, about holding him and crying over his broken little body, and how he changed. 

At some point she’d started looking at their hands instead of his face, but Jaime was so uncharacteristically quiet, she had to look up to see his reaction.

His green eyes were shining, his expression strangely calm for a man who’d just learned that he nearly died in the body of a cat. Perhaps this was what he needed, to know what had happened to make peace with it. He leaned in until Brienne almost thought he might kiss her, but he just pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across her lips. 

“For what?” Brienne hadn’t done anything extraordinary. She didn’t need thanks.

Jaime closed his eyes. “For loving him. I wish I remembered it better.”

“Maybe it will come back.” Brienne hesitated as he drew back and opened his eyes again. He was still very close. “But maybe better if it doesn’t? Some things might be … awkward to remember.” 

He looked confused for a moment, and then cleared his throat, looking away, and she wished she hadn’t reminded him. Was he remembering something embarrassing for him or for her? Cats had any number of disgusting habits, and Brienne had been both naked and sick in front of him. Maybe they were even. 

Jaime smiled, a small wry grin that made his eyes crinkle in an appealing way. He looked older, touches of silver in his hair and his beard, but she liked it. “What was it the old witch said? I had to find real love? I guess she knew I couldn’t talk and still find it.” 

“Jaime,” Brienne chided, trying to reach for him again, but he shied away.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m good. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ll get out of your hair.” He glanced around. “I’m going to miss this place.” He hesitated. “And you.”

Brienne was going to miss him, too. Jaime, not just Leo. The whole last day had been completely crazy, and the one before that had been worse, but there was just something about him that made her feel better. 

Before she could tell him that, he leaned over and grabbed his socks and shoes off the rug. It felt final, seeing him preparing to leave. 

“You could come by,” she offered, cringing at the hopeful note in her voice. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her, not once he got home and thought better of it. She was only hurting herself making the offer. 

“I don’t need your pity,” he said stiffly, then started tying his shoes. His right hand wasn’t quite as dextrous as his left. An old injury or the result of an imperfectly healed fracture? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. 

“I don’t pity you.” Maybe a little, at first, when he was so upset and lost. 

“Right.” He didn’t roll his eyes but he might as well have. Jaime finished the laces and stood, wincing as he did. He must still have some dizziness from his head injury. “Look, you’ve been good to me, letting me stay here, so trust me when I say you want no part of the circus that’s coming. I’ll keep your name out of it as much as I can. Just cash the check and put this behind you. I’m not some charity case you need to keep worrying about.”

Brienne sprang up, indignant. “I don’t think you’re a charity case!”

Jaime whirled to face her, bristling with anger. “Then what? We never fucking met until yesterday.”

Brienne stood her ground even though every fiber of her being was telling her to back away. “Do you feel like we met yesterday?”

“No!” All his anger drained away. He rubbed at his temples and sucked in a deep breath. “This is fucking crazy, but the last thing I want to do is leave right now. And I have to, because if I don’t, my father will just keep sending people until I come to heel.” Jaime made a face, hearing the words as they left his mouth.

As if she’d ever tried to put Leo on a leash. As if he would have allowed it. “Then you know where the spare key is.” 

Jaime snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I do.” 

“So come see me, if you want.” Brienne could barely get the words out. Somehow it was harder thinking he might welcome them. Hope was dangerous. It made the hurt sharper when it came. 

Jaime nodded, and then he stepped in and hugged her. Barely long enough for Brienne to process the feel of him, how they fit together, before he let her go and walked out the door.

She watched the door, waiting, just in case, for longer than she should have. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long once again, and this chapter just keeps growing, so I've split it in two. The next one is already 2500 words, so hopefully will take less time to complete.

He was on television three days later, still bearded and long-haired, but looking styled and untouchable. Brienne watched every moment, then watched it again. And again. 

Jaime seemed better, charming but still a bit unsteady, hesitating before lying, omitting the truth. The longest pauses came when he talked around her. He didn’t remember what happened to him in that tent, didn’t remember much of the past year, was so grateful the unnamed woman who found him had stopped to help him. The mystery of it all was driving the press crazy, but Jaime downplayed it and blamed it on his head injury. He did well. If she didn’t know the real story, she would never suspect. 

There were a few more print articles, some speculation in the tabloids that he’d been in rehab, or been briefly entangled with someone unsuitable. The latter was too close to the truth for her tastes, although Brienne would wager everything she owned and her ancestors had ever owned, an entire island, that no one would ever guess what had really happened. The official story was that he went for a walk after attending his niece and nephews’ school carnival and disappeared. 

Brienne put away Leo’s dishes and toys, then framed a few good photos of him and put them up in the apartment, just to remind her. She told her dad and her coworkers that Leo had died in the struggle with the men in the park. It wasn’t even a lie. 

And as the days passed with no word from Jaime, she started to let go of him too. It all started to feel like a dream, getting hazy around the edges, details fading. 

The apartment was quiet. She hadn’t noticed that before. It felt empty now in a way it never had. But Leo wasn’t coming back, and neither was Jaime. Brienne had never really thought he would. 

Two weeks passed, and then another. She joined a gym, tried a dating app until the steady trickle of dick pics made her delete it, and resisted the urge to look Jaime up online. 

A month after Leo left her life as suddenly as he’d entered it, Brienne came home from work laden with grocery bags. Her kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off by the time she tipped the pasta into a pot of bubbling water and turned her sauce down to a simmer. 

A knock on her door drew her attention. “Just a minute!” She rushed to wash her hands and get to the door, hoping she didn’t look too messy and sweaty. Myranda was supposed to drop off her key so Brienne could keep an eye on her apartment while she traveled, and Myranda always looked put together and pretty. 

But Myranda wasn’t behind the door. 

Jaime was. 

Brienne was suddenly keenly aware that her hands were speckled with sauce, her hair was frizzy from standing over a steamy pan, and her face was flushed. 

He looked more like the old Jaime than the man she’d known so briefly: short hair and perfectly tailored clothes, stubble covering his jaw. He smiled uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, possibilities she dared not entertain dancing through her head.

His smile died. “You said I could drop by. You could at least pretend to be glad to see me.”

Brienne couldn’t quite tell if he was teasing or hurt. “I am! I’m just …. you surprised me. That’s all.” 

“Are you going to let me in?” Jaime asked pointedly, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Of course. I need to—excuse me, make yourself at home.” She moved swiftly back to the kitchen, stirring the sauce again before grabbing a kitchen towel to scrub her hands. The freckles wouldn’t budge but the sauce at least wiped clean. 

Jaime closed the door behind him, watching her as he moved into the living room. She’d moved the couch back to its usual spot, but he didn’t sit down. He just leaned against the back, facing her. “Expecting someone?” 

Brienne shook her head. “No, just me. Thought I’d cook for once.”

“How’s that going?” Jaime asked with a hint of amusement. Maybe he remembered how rarely she cooked, and how often the smoke detector went off when she did. 

“Fine,” she mumbled, setting down the towel and moving to the fridge. “Want a drink?”

“Sure,” Jaime answered, glancing around the apartment. It was largely the same, but Brienne didn’t want to ask if he remembered more. 

Opening the fridge, she swore softly under her breath. She had three bottles of Tarth’s best stout, so dark and rich it practically counted as a meal. “Not much selection here, I’m afraid,” she apologized, opening a bottle and passing it to him. 

“It’s fine, you weren’t expecting me. I didn’t have your number or I would have called.” He took a gulp of beer and winced. It was strong, heavy on the barley since barley was easy to grow on Tarth. 

“You wanted to call me?” She couldn’t help sounding skeptical. She popped the cap off her bottle and took a deep drink. Her father had started letting her have a nip from his bottle when she was maybe 8 years old. It tasted of home to her.

He sighed and set his bottle on the counter. “You didn’t cash your check.”

Right. Of course he didn’t really want to be here. “I’ll sign it over to a charity next week. Good enough?” She’d meant to do it, every time she saw the check sitting in the drawer. Every time she thought about tearing it up she remembered Jaime urging her to do good with it. What was the most good? What was the perfect choice? Nothing ever seemed quite right, so she always closed the drawer and ignored it until the next time. 

He cocked his head. “You’re not even going to replace the couch? Or the things I broke?” 

She shrugged. “I like the couch. The rest can’t be replaced.”

Jaime sighed. “Why not? I don’t recall any priceless one-of-a-kind swords, just some knick knacks.”

Brienne had cried over those knick knacks, but not because they were especially valuable. “They were my mother’s.” The little glass birds had once adorned her mother’s dresser back on Tarth. Brienne remembered playing with them as a small child. 

Jaime’s face fell. “Shit, I’m sorry. I just—”

“Thought money could fix anything?” she ventured, trying to be gentle with him despite the flash of anger that ran through her at his words. A nasty voice in her head pointed out that Lannisters probably threw cash at all of their problems. 

“I didn’t know,” he mumbled. 

“How could you? It’s fine, okay? I’ll deal with the check.” This time she really would do it. Brienne took a long swallow of her beer. Maybe she’d even split up the money, throw a few thousand each to several charities. Plenty of nonprofits on the island were always hurting for funds. Maybe she’d fund a cat sanctuary, or a trap-neuter-release program for the island’s many feral cats. Jaime was lucky she hadn’t altered him as the vet suggested. 

Jaime reached out and took his beer again, fingers sliding lightly over the cool glass, slick with condensation. He raised the bottle to his lips and took several sips, his throat working. It seemed he had nothing left to say. That shouldn’t disappoint her, but somehow it did. 

“Was there something else you wanted?” she prompted. Brienne had no interest in polite small talk, standing here awkwardly knowing he would rather be anywhere but here. 

“Why did you say I could come by if you didn’t want me here?” Jaime hid his hurt poorly. Strange to think that she could hurt him. 

“You don’t want to be here. Does it matter whether I want you here or not?” Brienne was used to being unwanted, and used to being alone. She had no patience for his inability to deal with one person not falling at his feet. 

“Who says I don’t want to be here?” His chin jutted out, making him look even more like a petulant child. 

She matched his posture, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a month, Jaime. And you’re only here because your father made you come.”

“That’s not true. The check was my excuse.” He growled in frustration. “Why are we fighting?”

Behind her, angry sizzling reminded Brienne abruptly that she was cooking. She whirled around just in time to watch the pasta pot overflow, hot water boiling madly on the cooktop. She yelped and hurried to turn down the heat. She fished a noodle out and blew on it before taking a bite. Just right, luckily. She didn’t have any more pasta on hand. 

“Do you need help?” Jaime asked uncertainly from behind her.

“No, just—give me a minute, okay?” Brienne wrestled her colander out of a drawer and quickly emptied the pot into the colander over the sink. Steam rushed over her face, and she took a few long, slow breaths, trying to settle her nerves. 

Jaime did something to her. He threw her off balance with his presence, his quicksilver emotional changes, his familiar mannerisms in an unfamiliar form. Constantly holding back, reminding herself that he was a virtual stranger, took effort. 

Without turning to face him, Brienne summoned what little courage remained to her. “You want to be here?” She focused on dumping the pasta in with her sauce, mixing it all up to coat the pasta and turning off the heat. She’d need to kick him out or invite him to stay, depending on what he said next.

She could hear him behind her, his bottle clinking against the counter, the sound of him swallowing. “I was here yesterday. Stood across the street and saw you coming home from work. Felt like a stalker so I left.”

Brienne was so shocked she almost dropped the spoon she was stirring with. Shaking a little, she turned to face him. “You’re not a--”

“Twice last week, too. I was in the apartment once. Sat on the couch for an hour. I was afraid you’d come home early and catch me, but at the same time I wanted that so bad.” He took another long swig, grimacing as he put the bottle down. “I told you. Stalker.”

“You’ve been here three times?” To think she’d been so sure Jaime had already forgotten about her. 

“You put away the cat things,” he said softly. 

Brienne frowned. “I did. You didn’t answer the question.”

Jaime looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Four times,” he mumbled. “The first week, I couldn’t sleep. Got all the way to your door one night, but I couldn’t knock.”

She could see it now, the strain in the lines around his mouth, the subtle darkness under his eyes. She wanted to tell him everything would be okay, but that wasn’t a promise she could keep. Because he wasn’t hers to keep. Even though he couldn’t seem to walk away either. 

“Sit down,” she ordered, before she could second guess her decision. 

Jaime blinked hard and started backing toward the couch. Leo had never obeyed her this way. Jaime had better manners. 

“No, the table,” Brienne corrected, and turned her back on him. In a few minutes, when conversation was strained and he had his fill of whatever comfort their place gave him, she might regret this. But she pulled out plates and flatware, filled their dishes with hot pasta and sprinkled them with cheese. She served them both, and brought over their beers. Wine would be better, but she didn’t have any. 

Jaime didn’t seem to care. He was already shoveling food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten all day. “Thank you,” he said around a bite of pasta.

“You don’t need to thank me.” She speared a bite of pasta on her fork and chewed it before adding, “This is barely edible.” Maybe she shouldn’t have eyeballed the spices instead of searching for her measuring spoons. 

Jaime raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, continuing to eat. He kept looking at her. It was unnerving.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Dinner wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, or maybe she was just getting used to it. Too much garlic, that was it, although she was usually of a mind that there was never too much garlic. 

“No,” Jaime said after pausing to sip his beer. “You cooked me chicken. And gave me canned tuna.” 

“Sometimes.” Would it ever stop feeling so strange, talking about his time as Leo? 

He spoke occasionally of his memories as they ate. Brienne didn’t volunteer much about herself, answering his questions as succinctly as possible. 

Jaime fell asleep on the couch not long after dinner, while they watched a ballgame. If her fingers slipped into his hair, playing with the soft strands, he didn’t object. 

In the morning he was gone, but he turned up again three nights later and insisted on taking her to dinner. Conversation was slightly less strained, but even tucked away in a dimly-lit booth, they avoided any mention of Leo. Jaime walked her to the front door of her building, looked longingly up at her balcony, but didn’t go inside. Brienne didn’t push him either way. Whatever this was, it felt delicate. Talking about it with anyone else was impossible, and since neither of them seemed capable of confronting the issue, they kept dancing around it, like partners in one of those old-fashioned dances where the couple barely touch, whirling in complicated patterns but never quite coming together. 

He kept coming around. Brienne didn’t call him, didn’t pursue him. Jaime was skittish as the stray cat he’d once been, desperately in need of affection but unable to trust it. He misunderstood things she said, took offense easily and snapped at her for what felt like no reason. But his ire never lasted, and soon enough he was knocking on her door again, usually bearing a bottle of wine and an apology. It all felt eerily similar to winning over Leo. 

Except Leo couldn’t really leave. He was wholly dependent on her and essentially trapped in her apartment. Jaime came and went freely. If he disappeared for a few days, she didn’t have to worry that something terrible had happened to him. She still worried, just for other reasons. And even those worries began to fade with time. The shadows beneath his eyes went away. His beard grew in again, his hair grew longer and started to curl. He stopped wearing fashionable suits and t-shirts that cost more than her groceries. 

And she liked him. Her traitorous heart leapt when she saw him through the peephole, or his name popped up on her phone. They had nothing in common except the most traumatic experience of his life. She tried to tell herself every time Jaime came over that soon he would stop calling, soon they would fall out of touch, and it would be healthy for him to put this all behind him. When a week passed without any contact, she swallowed her disappointment and tried to be happy for him. 


	5. Chapter 5

When she came home one night to find Jaime lying on her couch with a tiny tortoiseshell kitten on his chest, Brienne was surprised but not displeased. 

Jaime was unusually quiet as he lay there, watching her take off her coat, set aside her work bag and slip off her shoes. Usually when men stared it was with revulsion or disdain on their faces, but Jaime just seemed to take her in with a warm curiosity. “This is Lann,” he finally said, turning his attention back to the kitten and stroking its little head with one finger. 

“He’s very sweet. And clever, to have found you.” Brienne was no expert, but the kitten looked possibly too young to be away from its mother. Its entire body would fit in his hand, it was so small.

Jaime’s faint smile told her she’d correctly guessed the name’s origins. “I found him hiding under a trash can in the park. I looked around for his mom but he was all alone.”

_ Oh, Jaime. _ Brienne sat on the edge of the couch, her hip snug against his thigh. “Do you go to the park often?” 

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Do you?” His gaze left the kitten and traveled up to her face again. The lack of judgment there made it no easier to bear. His eyes were very green, luminous in the lamplight. 

She shook her head. “No. Does it help? Going there?” Brienne doubted it. Her trauma was much less than his, and being there made her chest tight and her fingers tingly. Panic clawed up her throat within steps of entering the park the few times she’d tried to master her fear. She’d finally given herself permission to wait and not force it just yet.

Jaime shrugged again. “I remembered Cersei dumping me.” He glanced at the kitten and curled his hand protectively around its small back. “Do you think he’s a real cat or like me?”

Brienne’s heart ached for him. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been able to resist an abandoned kitten, even one so scruffy and oddly-colored as this one. One side of its small face was black, and the other sported a mix of ginger and white fur. The colors fought over the rest of the small body, light refusing to yield to the dark, as if he’d started out black and rolled about in white and ginger until he was well muddled. Brienne reached out and gently took the cat from Jaime, carefully inspecting the little body in her palm. “I think there are thousands of ordinary cats in this city, and only one you. She’s a cat, and she needs to see a vet.” 

Jaime’s brow furrowed. “She?” 

“I think so. Come on, I think my vet has evening hours tonight.” They were out the door in a few minutes, the kitten tucked inside Jaime’s hoodie sweatshirt for warmth.

Jaime unsurprisingly loathed the vet. He stood in the corner of the waiting room eyeing it all with deep suspicion, and he was practically vibrating when they went into the exam room. His nerves didn’t help Lann the Clever calm down, so Brienne took her from him when the vet came in. 

He sold them some kitten formula and a bottle, and mushy kitten food, and told them to bring Lann the Clever back in two weeks for vaccinations if she survived. Jaime did not like that and fussed and grumbled all the way to the pet store he insisted on going to. Lann had a little blue collar and a name tag and a cozy little bed before they left the store. 

Somehow they all ended up back at Brienne’s apartment. Jaime’s building didn’t allow pets, apparently, though he insisted that Lann was small enough to pass unnoticed until he could arrange an exception being made for her. If anyone had ever needed an emotional support animal, it was Jaime.

Leo’s dishes came back out, though Lann could swim in the water dish and had no need for the food dish yet. It shouldn’t have affected Brienne at all to watch Jaime patiently and awkwardly feeding Lann from a bottle, but it did. He had no instinct for the mindless baby talk many people directed at their pets. Brienne had been guilty of it a time or two. Jaime talked as if he expected the kitten to answer.

“Look at your face,” he chided, but his expression was soft as he looked down at the kitten’s formula-smeared mouth. “I’ll have to change your name. Not clever at all to spill your milk. Do you want to be Garth the Gross?”

Brienne, by then ensconced on a nearby chair sipping tea, protested, “You’re not calling her Garth. She’s just a baby.”

Jaime smiled as he looked at her. He was sprawled across the couch again, his bare feet hanging over the edge, and wearing one of her shirts since the kitten had peed on him not long ago. “You teach her some manners then. She doesn’t listen to me.”

Lann made a tiny little  _ mew  _ at that, the bottle slightly too far from her mouth to reach. 

Brienne finished her tea and rose with a yawn, determined to put away her mug before she fell asleep right there in her living room. “You’re doing just fine,” she insisted, and came over to lean down and stroke the kitten’s soft fur before heading to the kitchen.

Except Jaime was right there, and somehow their faces were very close and before she could say or do anything, his lips were on hers. 

Brienne’s hand fell to his chest, not pulling him close or pushing him away, just holding them both steady. His mouth was warm, his lips soft as they moved over hers, his beard tickling her chin and upper lip. Jaime was definitely kissing her, his heart hammering under her palm. Not a friendly peck or accidental brush of lips, but more exploratory than lustful. 

They were both tired, surely that was why Brienne kissed him back. She could not remind herself that Jaime clung to her out of confusion and trauma, could not tell herself that she should not take advantage of his vulnerability, when his free hand came up to cup her cheek. Jaime stretched up to bring them closer, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips. 

Tiny knives pierced her arm. Brienne jerked back with a startled cry. Lann’s bottle had fallen to one side, and the kitten had climbed Jaime’s shirt and now stood there between them, meowing pitifully, her sharp little claws drawing bloody welts on Brienne’s arm. 

“Brienne,” Jaime started, eyes darting between the two of them as he tried to get the bottle back in the kitten’s mouth while still looking at Brienne. 

“I’m fine. You deal with her,” Brienne insisted, and escaped to the kitchen to put away her empty mug. Washing up and filling the dishwasher didn’t exactly help, as she could feel Jaime’s gaze on her back. 

She hurried to the bathroom and quickly smeared antiseptic over the scratches and bandaged them. She remembered well the vet’s admonishment that strays could carry all sorts of nasty bacteria and illnesses. 

She might have hesitated in the bathroom, sat on the toilet for a few minutes even though she didn’t need to use it, washed her hands longer than necessary. But at least when she walked back into the living room, keeping the chair between them, she felt slightly more in control. She had a plan—not to talk about this right now, and maybe never. “It’s late. I should go to bed.” 

Jaime was still on the couch, the kitten curled up on his chest fast asleep. He glanced at the door, then back at her. “If you want me to go, just say so.” There was something brittle in his voice, a hard set to his jaw. 

“I don’t,” she blurted out, but couldn’t force the words out to explain why. She missed Leo, and saw him in Jaime at times. That was obvious, and understandable. What was embarrassing was how swiftly and deeply she’d grown to care for Jaime. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever met, and Brienne could not deny her weakness for men far out of her league. But if it was just attraction, Brienne could have resisted. She’d done it before. Jaime was more than a pretty face and sculpted body. There was something magnetic about him. No matter how sharp his tongue, no matter how irritating he could be, she still wanted him around. “I don’t understand why you want to be here.”

Jaime cocked his head just a little, regarding her, seeming to size up whether she really meant what she said. “This feels like home.  _ You  _ feel like home.”

Brienne looked away, her face heating. How did he slice to the heart of it so easily? She’d been flailing for weeks trying to understand it. “You don’t have to …  _ kiss  _ me to stay here,” she said softly. Just putting it into words made her cringe.

He sat up a little straighter. “You started it.”

“I was just trying to pet the cat!” Brienne’s face was scalding hot now, embarrassment rendering her a blotchy mess. She’d seen it too many times in the mirror to pretend she blushed prettily.

Jaime’s shoulders sagged. “So you didn’t want to kiss me?” 

“Did you want to kiss me?” She could hear the challenge in her voice, daring him to lie. For all his faults, that was something he had not done. All she wanted was an honest answer. 

“Yes.” He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “If you’d stop running away, I’d do it again.”

“Why?” Brienne wanted to cram the word back into her mouth. “Don’t—don’t answer that.”

“Brienne, stop.” Jaime didn’t raise his voice, but the words still held authority somehow. He got up carefully and walked over to the cat bed in the corner to nestle little Lann inside. 

When he straightened and turned back to face her, Jaime seemed less certain of himself. “I don’t feel like  _ me  _ anymore when I’m in my condo, at work, or with my family. It’s like wearing outgrown shoes. I didn’t even notice how badly I fit in my life until I was here and had to go back. I’m constantly aware that I’m not doing and saying what they expect. That I’m not making their lives easier, like I used to. I make them uncomfortable.  _ I’m  _ uncomfortable, and I start second-guessing everything I do. When I’m here, I feel right. I can breathe.”

With every word, Brienne’s heart ached for him, but she had to swallow her own bitter disappointment. He was still chasing the feeling of home from when Leo lived here. That’s all this was. “I told you,” she said tightly, hurt closing her throat and making her eyes hot. “You don’t need to put on an act for me.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Who’s acting? Come on.” He growled a little, low in his throat. “Look, it’s late, we’re both tired. Can I just sleep here tonight, and we can fight about this in the morning?”

Brienne only thought about it for a moment. She’d take this reprieve, however long it lasted. If she was lucky he’d be gone when she woke, and they could pretend this never happened. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

Jaime shook his head. “No, I want to sleep with you.” He raised a hand to forestall her objection. “Just sleep, I swear.” 

Brienne hesitated. This was a mistake. She was just enabling him. But his green eyes were watching her with such open hope she couldn’t say no. She sighed. “Bring the cat.”

Jaime smiled a broad Cheshire Cat grin and Brienne felt very much like Alys, transported to another world where impossible things happened. 

She did her best to ignore him as he trailed behind her carrying the kitten on her fuzzy little cat bed like a tiny queen. He was difficult to ignore, as always. His presence filled the room. The bed loomed large in front of her. They’d shared it before, it shouldn’t be a big deal, but it felt like a big deal. 

She tried to quiet the butterflies in her stomach, tried to tell herself it meant nothing. Focus on the practical. He would need something to sleep in. Brienne pawed through her drawers and found a pair of old sweatpants and handed them back to him before grabbing her own pajamas and bolting for the bathroom. Normally Brienne didn’t give a second thought to what she slept in, but the unforgiving light of the bathroom made it hard to overlook how thin and stretched out her ancient sleepshirt was. A glance down reminded her that it also barely reached mid-thigh. She should’ve grabbed her own sweatpants, but it was too late now and she’d have to dig them out of the hamper anyway. She hadn’t had time to do laundry this week. 

Walking out of the bedroom was almost impossible. He’d seen her in much more compromising positions, but even so, that was Leo. That was different. And there was no telling how much he remembered. Hopefully very little. But she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing was wrong. As if finding Jaime shirtless in her sweatpants didn’t knock the wind right out of her. 

He was sprawled on the right side of the bed, the kitten safely stowed in her little bed on the floor nearby. Did he remember sleeping on that side as Leo? Was he just guessing? He was watching her, gaze drifting down her legs.

Brienne’s hands went to the hem of her shirt, yanking it down as far as it would go, but it was no use. She hurried across the room and awkwardly clambered into bed, praying to the Mother that she hadn’t flashed him her panties. 

He was still watching here intently, so Brienne rolled away from him to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. 

“If it helps, I’ve seen you far more naked.” His voice floated out of the black, too close. “I mean, I was very short and you were basically a mountain, but I do remember you.”

Heat suffused her skin again, but she tried to keep the hurt from her voice. “Maybe try not telling women they’re craggy and massive.”

“I never said craggy!” Jaime protested. He turned to face her, wriggling closer. His voice dropped to a low growl. “You were impressive.” 

And he was still just as gorgeous as ever, his scars already starting to fade. It wasn’t fair. “Not impressive enough to make you listen to me,” she grumbled. Often it had seemed that Leo went out of his way to thwart her.

Jaime chuckled softly, warm and inviting in the dimness. “In my defense, I didn’t always understand the Common Tongue.” 

“If you say so.” Brienne had never blamed Leo for his very feline displays of temper, but it felt different now knowing a human intelligence lurked behind those green eyes. 

A more comfortable silence settled over them, but it didn’t last. Just as Brienne was starting to drift off, Jaime spoke again. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

No, of course not. She’d never met a woman quite like her either. Maybe that would have made things easier for her over the years. Friendships had been hard to come by, and never seemed to last longer than the job or class they shared. “I’m nothing special.” 

The blankets shifted and Jaime’s hand was on her arm. “Brienne, you have no idea—” He made a quiet, frustrated noise. “You would have hated me. Before. If I walked past some boys kicking around a cat, I don’t know that I would have stopped. If I was on my phone, I might not have even noticed.”

“I'm sure you would—” Brienne started to assure him, but he squeezed her arm to cut her off.

“I was a bastard. I did things—”

From the dark, a weak cry interrupted him. Jaime pulled away and was gone in a flurry of bedding. She heard the thump of his knees hitting the floor, and the pathetic crying stopped. He found his way out of the room without turning on a light. He was talking to the cat, soft words Brienne couldn’t quite make out. She assumed a bottle was involved. 

Brienne drifted a bit in the quiet, dozing but awake enough to notice Jaime shuffling back in, stopping in the bathroom, and coming back to bed. 

He plopped a suspiciously furry little lump between them. The kitten wriggled around until she was against Brienne’s side. Jaime got under the covers this time.

“It’s hard to take your bastardy seriously when you’re bottle feeding a kitten you rescued from the trash.” 

“Don’t listen to her,” he grumbled, reaching out to scratch the kitten’s tiny head. “You weren’t actually in the trash.”

“If she pees in the bed, you’re washing the sheets,” she chided, trying to sound stern and failing miserably.

Her treasonous eyes were adjusting to the darkness, making Jaime’s smile visible to her. “I love you.”

_ I love you too _ almost tripped off her tongue, which was insane. He didn’t mean anything by it. Of course he didn’t. “What?”

Jaime hesitated. “I love you.” It came out stronger the second time, like he was convincing himself.

What was she supposed to do with that? He was emotionally needy, and beautiful, and imprinting on her like the kitten he’d saved. “You’re very easy to love,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t notice the misdirection. “Especially now that you don’t make a hobby of shredding my couch.”

Jaime chuckled in response, but the tightness in Brienne’s chest remained. No one, aside from her father, had ever said he loved her. And now Jaime had said it twice. How could he just blurt it out so easily? Had his love never been rejected? Brienne’s had, stomped flat twice in her youth by boys who continued to mock her long after they’d dashed all her hopes. She hadn’t even loved them, that was the worst part. The one she’d loved before, she’d been smart enough never to reveal her affections. He hadn’t loved her either. No one had ever pursued her, not honestly. He had to have another reason for saying this.

“Jaime, are you hiding here?” Work wasn’t going well for him, and his family couldn’t understand his ongoing issues when he refused to tell them the truth. She’d wanted to ask him about this ever since he started coming around again, but the time was never right. It was easier to talk in the dark, where Jaime was a mere suggestion in the shadows, white teeth and the shine of his eyes, weak moonlight falling along the line of his arm and down his side. 

“No. They could find me if they wanted to.” He didn’t need to tell her who. Jaime’s brother was in Essos, but his father and sister still snapped their fingers and commanded his presence more often than Brienne liked. If they’d shown any concern for Jaime, she might not despise them so much. “I do love you,” he added, natural as breathing now. “I trust you.” 

That was harder to dismiss. Trust was not something Brienne took lightly. “Well, I took care of you for a long time. It’s natural you’d feel that way.”

Jaime got up on one elbow, peering down at her curiously. “You really don’t believe me, do you?”

She didn’t like being the object of his scrutiny. “You believe it.”

He frowned. “But you don’t. Why not?” 

Talking about this in bed was incredibly awkward. Jaime’s bare chest gleamed in what little moonlight passed through a gap in her curtains, and this close she could smell him, a warm, masculine mix of sandalwood and something green. She averted her eyes, looked up at the ceiling as she answered. “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m the only one you can talk to. That’s a bond we’ll always have. But is that love? You hardly know me.”

“Hardly know you? Are you serious?” He leaned closer to study her face, and Brienne couldn’t resist looking at him. His eyes widened. “You are. Huh. Wow.” Jaime flopped back on the bed, and gathered Lann onto his chest, stroking her back gently. “I bet I know you better than anyone outside your family.”

So he’d noticed that she didn’t have close friends. That wasn’t exactly a state secret. Her loyalty and effort had never been rewarded in her youth, and after awhile she’d stopped trying. It was easier on her own. And it would be easy to prove Jaime wrong. “Where did I go to college?” He wouldn’t find the answer in this apartment. She wasn’t one of those people who remained slavishly loyal to the place. It was a means to an end, and held no real fond memories. 

“No clue.” Jaime turned his head to look at her. “What’s next? Favorite color?” 

“You’re the one who said you knew me,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah. I know that you’re kind, and honest to a fault, and your humor is so dry most people probably don’t even notice it. You’re quiet, you stay in the background, probably because people say shitty things to you and then say it was a joke if you get upset. You don’t seem to have any friends, which is their loss, because you have more love to give than anyone I’ve met in my entire life.” He didn’t intend this to wound, but she felt flayed by every word Jaime spoke. 

“So I’m the lonely loser?” 

Jaime sat up, the kitten cradled in one hand. His eyes flashed in the dimness. “That’s right, Brienne. Push me away.” He clambered out of bed, snuggling Lann back in her bed. He came back to the foot of the bed, towering over her. “I’ll leave if you want, and never come back.”

Why did she keep thinking of him as a kitten, docile and dependent? He wasn’t. Even as a cat he was demanding and possessive. “No. I just…. I don’t know how to do this.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and got back in bed, lying on his side watching her. “Nothing in my entire life feels right anymore.” He moved closer, his feet tangling with hers, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Except you.”

It was so corny she had to smile. “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

Jaime smiled back. “Only the ones with eyes like the sky.”

Brienne snickered at that. “Does that work on women?” It was working on her, just a little, against her better judgement. 

“I don’t know. I never did date much.” He actually sounded a little embarrassed.

“But you always had some woman on your arm at events,” Brienne countered. She’d done some digging into his past, in the end. Not enough to be creepy, she hoped, but enough to assure her father that Jaime wasn’t a serial killer. He’d been surprised to hear that a man was hanging around her apartment, especially since Brienne hadn’t been able to explain his presence very well. She’d lied and said they met in the park, which had rung alarm bells for Selwyn Tarth. He still thought King’s Landing was a nest of vipers, which it was, and rife with violent crime, which it really wasn’t anymore. 

Jaime stretched and tucked the blankets around himself more securely. “My father has many business associates, and quite a lot of them have daughters. I can be polite for a photo op and a meal, I’m not that big of an asshole.” He considered a moment. “I was a well-dressed bobblehead.”

She turned toward him, barely stifling a laugh. “And now?”

A sly grin curved his lips, and he ducked his head and butted it against her shoulder, rubbed his scruffy face against her neck. “Maybe still a cat.”

Brienne squirmed as his beard tickled her. “A big, noisy cat,” she grumbled.

Jaime nipped at her throat, and she gasped. “A lion,” he agreed with a purr. 

Brienne meant to shove him back, but her hand gripped his shoulder instead. Slid around to his back, tracing the muscles there and drawing him closer.

His lips settled against her throat. His hand rested on her hip, and he made a soft, contented noise. “I missed this.” 

She hummed in response. Of course she missed the cozy contentment she’d felt when Leo cuddled with her in bed, but this was entirely different. Jaime was not a pet. Everything between them was infinitely more complicated now. She let her hand drift up to the nape of his neck, teasing the fine hairs there. 

She should say something. “Jaime, I …” Her courage was already waning and in a moment it would be gone entirely. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Careful,” he teased. “Keep gushing like that and I’ll think you like me.” 

“I do. You know I do.” Words didn’t seem enough, so Brienne wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

Jaime’s hand curled around the base of her skull. “I did catch you checking out my ass at the pet store.”

Brienne snorted a laugh. “I did not.”

“Whatever you say, kitten.” He snuggled in even closer, his legs tangled up with hers. It was far too comfortable. 

“Kitten?” She heard the horror in her voice and yet it still wasn’t enough. “Nope. Go to sleep, before you talk me right out of whatever this is.”

Jaime chuckled, but obediently settled in, tucked tightly against her in a way that should have felt suffocating. Brienne was not a cuddler by nature. She hadn’t even really wanted it from Leo at first, but given how little affection he showed initially, Brienne had been hesitant to reject him. Perhaps Leo had worn her down, because Jaime’s warmth was more than welcome. It felt right. 

* * *

Jaime’s building, would not, in fact, make an exception for Lann, not even when Jaime claimed she was an emotional support animal. No amount of Lannister gold would sway the building manager or the doormen to look the other way. So Lann became a permanent resident of Brienne’s apartment, and Jaime seemed to come along with the kitten. 

It happened slowly: a T-shirt left in a drawer, a toothbrush by the sink, running clothes in her hamper and his laptop charging on the kitchen counter. Brienne saw it happening, but each night she climbed into bed and could not bring herself to confront him when he climbed in beside her. Within two weeks he was only stopping by his apartment for changes of clothes every few days. Brienne’s closet was tiny and barely fit her clothes much less his as well.

So every morning she woke up to a kitten not so tenderly batting at her face, and Jaime curled up behind her like spoons in a drawer. He would press his lips to her shoulder, or nuzzle the back of her neck, soft and undemanding, and then scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom to get the first shower. But then he would smile and hand her a steaming cup of coffee, and all was forgiven. 

Jaime had a job, technically, and sometimes he even threw on an insanely well-tailored suit and actually went to work. His last trip, a week “pacifying the Riverlands,” as he put it, saw him mediating disputes between various Lannister subsidiaries and overseeing the takeover of new acquisitions. But he was, after all, the son of the CEO and could usually work remotely. If he took video calls on Brienne’s couch with a cat in his lap, no one would dare complain.

He was cooking dinner, struggling to follow along with a cooking show on his phone, the first time she intentionally kissed him. He’d just returned from his trip and Brienne had missed him far more than she’d expected. The food burned and they ate takeout on the couch, smiling every time they snuck glances at each other. When the food was gone and the dishes washed, they spent hours on the couch kissing and touching like teenagers. Brienne was distracted all the next day at work, blushing every time he texted silly emojis or sent her pictures of Lann sleeping in strange positions and locations all over the apartment. 

Bedtime got more interesting after that, much to Lann’s irritation. First she stared at them from uncomfortably close, occasionally trying to get between them. After a few nights, as long as there was a free pillow somewhere on the bed, out of range of wandering limbs, she mostly ignored them. Mostly. If Brienne got too loud, Lann would voice her displeasure and find somewhere quiet to be. Sometimes Brienne was loud just to get Lann to stop staring. 

After the third time her father called and Jaime answered the phone, Brienne had to admit they were living together. “In that tiny apartment?” her father asked. It hadn’t even occurred to Brienne to move out of the apartment where Jaime was Leo. But while Leo had fit into her life and her home easily, Jaime did not. Most of his things were still at his place because there just wasn’t room for them in her apartment. 

Jaime’s status as a perpetual houseguest complicated things. One night they had a fight and, rather than talk it out, Jaime left in a huff, spending the night at his condo. He could complain about his family, but if Brienne said anything negative about them, Jaime’s hackles rose and he defended them vehemently, no matter how awfully they’d treated him. He came back the next day, but the distance and defensiveness took days to wear off. 

Maybe the apartment and its memories of Leo were keeping them together. She knew him in a way no one else ever could. There was an appeal to that, maybe enough to draw him into her bed. It wasn’t as if he’d taken one look at her and been overcome with lust for her. They’d fallen together slowly, drawn together by affection and trauma before any real heat sparked between them. Would their attraction burn out without constant reminders of the bond they shared? 

And once that thought crept in, she couldn’t shake it. She started looking at apartment listings during lunch and while riding the subway. It only took four days to find the perfect apartment: closer to her office, pet-friendly, spacious and bright, with plenty of closet space and a view of the Blackwater Rush. She might even be able to afford it alone, if she dropped her gym membership and stopped buying her lunches. 

When she got home, Jaime was lounging on the couch, his computer balanced on his lap and his reading glasses perched on his nose. Those were recent. Maybe his vision had always needed correction, or maybe he missed the sharper vision of a cat. He must’ve had a video call because he was wearing a button-up shirt with his sweatpants. He’d dragged the couch over to the window again, and Lann was lying across the back, eyeing her expectantly. 

Jaime glanced up and smiled like he’d been waiting for her to come home all day. “Hey, perfect timing. The guy from Titan’s Tavern should be right behind you. I remembered to ask for more fish sauce this time.”

“I found a new apartment,” she blurted out, unable to keep it in for a moment longer.

Jaime sat up so abruptly his laptop tipped and nearly slid right onto the floor before he grabbed it. He set it on the coffee table and swallowed hard. “I, uh, didn’t know you were looking.”

“I wasn’t, but then I thought maybe I should.” How could she explain without making Jaime feel like he’d done something wrong? She should’ve thought this through better, maybe seen the new apartment before opening this particular can of worms. 

Jaime tossed his reading glasses onto the coffee table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why?” he snapped.

The front door buzzer went off before she could answer. Brienne was absurdly relieved for the delay. She needed a moment. Two, perhaps even three. “I’ll get it,” she mumbled, and fled to the door. She pressed the buzzer to let the delivery guy upstairs, and waited by the door for him to arrive. 

He was overly friendly, as usual, trolling for a larger tip. He needn’t have bothered. Brienne was a soft touch, she always tipped well. When he was gone and all the bags were on the counter, fragrant and making her mouth water, Brienne turned back to the living room. Jaime was still sitting on the couch, his face now in his hands.

She didn’t know what she was going to say until she’d made her way back to the living room and sat in the chair facing him. “As long as we’re here, this— _ us _ —will still be about Leo.”

Jaime slumped back against the couch. “Is that all? I thought you were leaving me.” 

Brienne hadn’t even considered his completely justified abandonment issues. Her face heated, embarrassed and relieved all at once. “No, of course not. I mean, if you don’t want to move, you could sublet this place.” She had to give him an out. It wasn’t fair to assume he meant to come with her. 

Jaime offered her a rueful smile and raised eyebrow. “And have two homes I don’t sleep in? No thanks, kitten.” She hadn’t been able to break him of that awful nickname. Jaime seemed to revel in her irritation about it. He scratched his short beard and gestured to his duffel bag spilling laundry onto the carpet in the corner. “I wouldn’t mind a bigger closet.”

“It has a bigger closet.” And for the first time, she let herself picture both of them there, Jaime’s suits and obnoxious red Lannisport Lions jerseys next to her starchy office clothes and flannel shirts.

Lann got up, stretched luxuriously, jumped into Jaime’s lap and rubbed her head against his hand before jumping off the couch, swishing her tail around Brienne’s legs on her way into the kitchen. She’d come back in a moment when she learned the delicious seafood smells weren’t for her. 

Jaime sat up straighter, leaning toward Brienne. “Where is it? Do you have photos?” 

“You really don’t mind leaving?” 

Jaime shook his head. “I keep telling you, you’re my home. And maybe a fresh start would be good for us.”

Brienne got up and moved over to the couch, letting herself cozy right up to him. Jaime was strong and warm and solid, and it still gave her a thrill to be so close to him. Sleeping beside him every night, making love with him nearly as often, none of that felt commonplace yet. It was all still new and unexpected. 

“It’s in Fishmonger’s Square.” She pulled up the photos on her phone, and Jaime commented as they scrolled through. Halfway through, Lann started batting around her empty food dish. 

“Did you call the rental agent?” Jaime asked, casting a quick glance at the kitten now glaring balefully in their direction. 

Brienne shook her head, scrolling to show him the massive claw foot tub in the bathroom. 

“Call, before someone else snaps it up. I’ll feed the beast.” Jaime kissed her, lingering and sweet, before he got up. 

Brienne watched him, his bare feet and mismatched clothes, murmuring endearments to the kitten now avidly following him as he picked up her bowl and started preparing her food. Jaime was a  _ good  _ man, more and more every day. If the fortuneteller had meant to humble him, to knock him loose from his family’s influence, she’d succeeded. Finding his own way was slow, difficult work, and it left him prickly at times. But he was trying, and Brienne admired him for that. 

“Jaime?” He turned back to look at her, and it suddenly seemed criminal that she’d never told him. “I love you.”

He lit up, his smile wide and bright, the lines around his eyes and his messy hair making him softer, imperfect and even more appealing. “I love you, too.” He turned back to the kitchen, Lann nearly tripping him, and tossed back over his shoulder, “It’s still your turn to clean the litter box.” 

Brienne laughed, her heart so full, and started dialing the rental agent. This apartment held a lot of memories, some good and some painful, but she couldn’t wait to make new ones in their new home, together. 


End file.
